


Taste Test

by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blindfolds, Dean's Point of View, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food, Oral Sex, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Poor Sam, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, Trust, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7800088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier/pseuds/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a blindfold and an idea.</p><p>@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid and her <a href="http://leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid.tumblr.com/spntoysofsummer">Toys of Summer Challenge</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salvachester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salvachester/gifts).



> Posting in two parts like I ended up doing over on Tumblr.

Sam opens the door to the library and almost trips over gravity to keep himself from stepping forward.

You’re at the table, sitting, waiting, with hands gently laid on the polished top. Blindfolded.

He takes a full eight seconds, five more than he should, to look at the scene and decide what’s going on. That extra five seconds is spent… drying his tongue, mostly.

Sam backs up, closes door as quietly as possible, turns and immediately meets Dean striding up the corridor.  He has a drawstring bag in hand and freezes because he knows full well what Sam just saw.

“What are you doing here?” Dean mutters quickly; low, quiet, nervous.

“I _live_ here.” Sam bites his whisper.  “What the hell is that?”

Dean blinks, hedging his time as he thinks of an answer.

Sam shakes his head as he thumbs over his shoulder. “I mean I thought you guys might be fooling around but _shit.  Dude.”_

Dean frowns and leans away from his snappy brother. _Sam thinks we’re together!_ he realises. _Sam thinks we’re playing a kink!_ So Dean runs with it.  “I thought you were out.”

“Doing what?” Sam squeaks. He’s barely spoken to Dean all morning.

“Don’t you have a stupidly long run or something?”

“No, that’s Thursdays.”

“Could it be today this week?”

“Fuck, do I have to explain to you how much I don’t wanna come across shit like this-”

“Hey! I thought you were out. For like 2 hours-”

“You think she wants me to see this?”

 _“Hey!”_ Dean gets a finger in Sam’s face as he shout-whispers. “I know she doesn’t but it doesn’t matter does it coz you wouldn’t be an ass to her if you did.  Would you?!”

“Of _course_ not. Just- okay it was an accident.”  Sam holds his hands up and tries to calm.

Dean huffs, pushes past and slowly, silently peeps in. You’re still there, right where he left you. Damned if that isn’t the hottest thing you’ve done this week.

He catches Sam peeking over his shoulder and stares him out, edging an eyebrow at the end like _She wouldn’t let you if you asked._

Sam does his little dance of pissiness and edges down the hallway. “You’ve got two hours.”

“Good luck running with that chub.”

“Asshole.”

Dean turns back to the doorway again, taking in the scene, and readies himself for what’s next.

—–

I shoulda brought a glass of water.

Okay.  It’s cool.  She’s just… patient.

But she hasn’t freaking moved a muscle.  And I’ve been gone ages.  That shouldn’t be so… attractive. _At all._

I walk into the room, feeling foolish.  I’m trying to be silent, holding the bag tight and quiet and carefully laying my feet on the floor.  Why?  I! Don’t! _Know!_  ‘Cause I’m an idiot. That’s why.

I mean, I’m sitting now and she doesn’t seem to know I’m here.  What, am I going to scare the shit out of her just for fun? That’s right - she loves assholes.

I must make some sorta noise, ‘cause she turns her head my way a little and says “That was stealthy.”

“Was it?  I wasn’t trying.”

She grins at me.  “You know you slow-blink when you lie.”

“Oooohoo, she’s funny.”  I open the bag and start pulling out the goods.  She waits, her hands still on the table.  I’m trying really hard, so hard, to not think of anything I shouldn’t think of.

“Okay hang on, almost ready… Face me?”

She grabs the arms of her chair and turns it so she’s side-on to the table, knees almost touching mine, then resettles herself with her hands in her lap, the slightest smile on her face.  The blindfold is a neat, long black rectangle, narrow enough to show her eyebrows.  I can’t remember if I’ve ever been able to look at her properly but here she is, a foot away, waiting for me to do this… I need to draw this out.

She wiggles again and I snap out of it.  

I get the first test ready saying “Did you seriously hold still that whole time?”

“You said ‘Don’t move’,” she reminds me, and pouts the tiniest little smile.

Yeah.  Okay, yeah well, I did.  I did say that but thank Christ my hands are busy right now.  That’s… sometimes I’m not even sure she’s flirting on purpose.

I hold the loaded spoon to her mouth.  

She doesn’t know it’s there.

God, I need to joke around about this.  My brain keeps freezing up.  I can’t think of the words.

“Open,” I say, and she gently drops her jaw for me, lip full and heavy, waiting.

I slide the spoon into her mouth, feel the pull of her gentle suck when I take it back.  “Mmmm,” she says, tongue swiping to collect what’s on her top lip.  “Oh, strawberry.  You started with the easy one first.”

“Too easy?”

“Yeah that one’s actual jam,” she says.  “Okay, next.”

I spoon it up and feed her the jelly, hoping for that little tongue dart again.  I shouldn’t, you know. We’re friends, even if we do flirt.  

But she’s always been cute as fuck.  Hot, really.  I’ll take what I can get.

She licks and tastes thoughtfully - _tp-tp-tp_ … “Plum?”

“Yes!”

She grins, wiggles again.  The next time, it’s her favourite, and she hums happily after the spoon, puts her fingertips to her mouth as she smiles…  Happy lips taut over her teeth and they play while she talks. Her happiness is gorgeous. It doesn’t even matter that she’s blindfolded.  My mind fills in her eyes, creased and curved and sparkling.  I keep thinking back to when I pulled the fabric across them, when I stood behind her, wrapped it around her head to tie the knot, and she let me.  When she said _Tighter_.

I’m not coping.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?!”

“It’s raspberry, right?!”

“Yeah-yeah, sorry-” Shit, I completely missed that.  She just too freakin’ cute.  “Alllrighty.  You ready for the big guns?”

“Yeah, okay,” she answers, a little cautious.

This time I touch her chin with my other hand, not even thinking about it, leading her to take what I’m offering and she instinctively tilts her head a little and reaches with her mouth.  It’s maybe two seconds of action but the whole sequence is all trust and soft and just makes me clench my jaw and hold my breath.

“Mmm, maple syrup!” she peeps, ramping up the excitement, because she wasn’t expecting syrups in the batch.  Then she stops and scowls.  “There better not be any ketchup coming!”

“No-no!” I assure her, gesturing at the buffet of jars she can’t see.  “No, no pranks.  Only got sweet things here.”

“Good, okay.”

All sweet things.

This one is very sticky, and she follows the spoon, pulling it into her mouth to work off some highly viscous fluid.  She hums at the flavour and I only just catch myself groaning at the sight of her neck stretched out for what I’m feeding her.

“Oooh,” she pouts, then rubs her tongue, a fleshy little cresent, back and forth over her top lip, and pulls the lower in to scrape it on her teeth. “Honey,” she coos.  

God. Dammit I was not ready for that.

I blink, maybe leaning a bit, and clear my throat.  There’s only one more, thank God, ‘cause I need a break already.  I load up the spoon, twirling it to wrap the thread, and think to touch her chin again so she’s ready before it drips.  She leans a little, I pop it in quick, and instantly she knows what it is.

“Mm!” she clamps her jaw on the metal and puts her hand over mine.  “Mm-mm,” she says, holding on to pull the spoon from her mouth, mostly clean. “Turn it over.”

“Ooh yeah,” she muffles, her fingers wrapped around my fist, both hands now, and I hear her sucking to work off the flavour, her cheeks concaving for it.  “You need the spoon for golden syrup.”

I’d give just about anything right now to kiss her and not get kicked in the junk. “Jesus.”

“What?”

Fuck.  “Nothing! Nothin’, I’m good.” I clear my throat again.  “Well, that’s it.  Six outta six, unless you wanna try some combos.”

“That’s all the sweet spreads in the bunker?”

I put the spoon back with the rest. “Yep, just about every sweet thing we have,” I say.  “Except me, o’course.”  Lol.  Keep it casual.

“Haha,” she laughs, “funny coz it’s true!” and points finger guns at me.  She smiles and chews her lip, maybe ‘cause it has food on it.

I probably wouldn’t get kicked.  Probably.  More likely slapped, shoved, for being an ass and taking advantage.

She starts feeling the jars with her hands, fingers spidering and head tilting towards them as she feels the shape and remembers what each one might be.  She finds the tin of golden syrup and feels the lid is off, whispering _Yes_.  Holding it firmly against the table, she dips the spoon, waiting for the syrup to settle around it, and lifts it an inch or so before starting to twirl.  I reach over and hold her wrist to help keep it from drizzling over the rim while she grins slack and cheeky at herself for working blind.  Would she slap me though?

She gets the spoon in her mouth fast as she can and hums again, short and emphatic.  “So good,” she says, the words wet with drool and syrup.

My chest drops on a huffed breath.  Am I really going to spend however long pretending to not look at her? Again? I love looking at her.  And I’ve gotten hints.  Yeah… yeah I’ve _definitely_ gotten hints.  It’s worth it.

I’m such an ass.

I lean over, just as she’s working the last of the tacky shine off her lips.  They’re swollen red from all the pulling and sucking, and I keep leaning.

Man, look at me, stealing a kiss.  What an ass.  I look at her lips and the black sash across her eyes, like she’s going to see me and catch me out.  Grabbing the armrests of her seat, I think she must detect my breath, or a noise because she turn her head sharply, noise pointed right at me and I freeze.  “Y/N…”  I meant to start a sentence there-

“Yes.”  She says it like I asked a question, which is _odd_ …

I cover the last few inches, not fast enough to bump her, but quick enough to surprise, because _I’m an ass_.  My lips meet hers and she sucks a sharp breath through her nose-

_I’m an ass I’m an ass I’m an ass_

\- there’s a noise, a hum, and she moves.  Just a tilt, maybe a quarter inch of nudge. So I work it a little, like I’m tasting her and she’s singeing hot against me.  I feel her fingertips on my cheek, then her palm, and she stops.  

It felt perfect, sounded perfect.  

Come on, Y/N, you can’t tell me that was a bad idea.

She licks her upper lip and breathes. “Well, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” she murmurs.

I’m a _fucking genius._

“Sam’s out on a run,” I think to say, for no reason whatsoever.

Her eyebrows pop thoughtfully.

“You want me to-?” She feels me reach around her head for the sash and she shakes her head, ducks and pushes gently on my arms with the backs of her hands, saying “No-”

She leans forward, lips peeling apart and chin reaching into the space with little upward nods, like she’s hoping to bump into me, trusting I’ll find her.  God help me it’s the most tempting thing I’ve ever seen.

I catch her mouth with mine, feeling the full softness, and hold her head with my palms over her ears.  She tastes like everything she’s eaten but sweeter, hot and familiar.  She pushes my wrists, saying she likes what I’m doing, then hooks a hand on the back of my ribs.  I stop the kiss for a minute to slide off the chair and kneel on the floor, and she scoots forward, spreading her knees so we can get close.  It’s a nice view, her thighs up against my waist.

Her palm cups my jaw, lifting my face to hers again.

“How much can you see? Really.”

“Nothing,” she promises.

“I feel like you’re looking at me.”  

She hums in reply and my hand on her back rubs up and down, shifting to her waist so I can feel how she fits in my hold.

Again she does that little coaxing upwards nod, drawing me in.  “Aaaw, Y/N,” I mash my lips on hers, “you’re fuckin’ irresistible when you do that.”

“Do what?” she smiles back.

“Ask me to kiss you like that.”  The words are warped and muffled between us.

She pushes her fingertips up the back of my head, wraps her arm around my shoulders and presses us together with her ankles in my thighs.  It makes all the skin on my back pull tight and tingle.  

“I didn’t realise I was doing anything,” she says.  “Maybe it’s because I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

“Really?”  I pull back a moment, like I’m going to get a truth or something from looking into a damn blindfold.

I do though:  She can’t see what I’m thinking or how I feel, but her face in an open book.  She just holds still and swallows.  “Yeah.”

I press my lips to her cheek, kiss over to her jaw and ear.  “Me too, since you started with us. Thank you for not kicking me in the junk when I did that.”

She giggles and I can feel her lips smile over my ear, fingers on my neck, her sound and breath tickling me enough to make me squint.

She whispers, right on my ear, so quiet it’s pretty much just consonants. “Take me somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t mind.”

It’s a secret.  She says it with our temples touching, looking down.  “Take me somewhere while I can’t see.”  She noses around my cheek, finds a patch behind my ear and sucks a firm kiss there.  Seems she’s a genius too.

I slide my hands down her arms and stand - stepping back so she can too - and begin to lead her from the tables and out towards the corridors.  I walk beside her, going steadily, kind of rocking from side to side to start, and she wraps her fingers over the web of my hand, palm to palm.  She takes hold of my arm just above the elbow, shuffling along right behind my shoulder.  I can look over and watch her trust me as I walk.

After a few yards, I try a bit of speed.  Glancing over, I see her smile grow, and she meets the challenge, matching my pace, grip tightening.  She swings and clings when we round a corner, bites down on laughter.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

It’s an honest question but she thinks it’s a test.  “I don’t know,” she says.

We’re headed down a corridor, getting closer to the bedrooms, and I’m trying to red-herring her, turning a few more corners, hoping that I can lead her back to her room without her realising it.  “You even know where we are?”

“My spidey senses say The Bunker,” she jokes.

“Correct.  Your sense of direction is impeccable, as always.”

She laughs a bit, then says “Naw, we’re in corridor H right? Going east?”

“How the fuck-”

Y/N starts to pull on my arm, slowing us down.  Her hold eases off and she lets herself free of me, moving around in front and guessing about exactly where I am, estimating where the walls are.  She trips her fingers up my chest, not too fast, walking forwards and backing me up to the wall crookedly, with a bump.  Scooting her touch higher and reaching again, she bumps her lips into the edge of my mouth ‘cause I can’t get there quick enough.

She smiles, and I kind of laugh a bit, and go to bring her closer, front and centre. She pushes my arms away again, with her wrists, and drags her hands down my forearms like she wants them to stay put.  I just wanna feel her pressed up against me.

It’s at about this moment, while she seems to be sniffing me out, I’m noticing just how undaunted she is without her sight.  The wall is against my back and it’s hard to do much of anything when she’s got my wrists pinned low like this. I’m trying to catch her kissing around my cheek and jaw but apparently she doesn’t want to get caught.

“You wanna do this here?”  

I’ve never heard her voice sound so smooth, and I can’t break the habit of looking her in the blindfold.  “Do what?”

“Well, how far am I gonna get?”

If I flex my wrist as hard as I can, I can just drag a few fingertips along the bracelets of hers.  “As far as you like.”

It’s like she has the thought of a smirk, cheeks twitching, and she pushes off and steps back.  “Okay,” she says, “We should probably be somewhere more private.  Tell me how I go.”

She turns, facing the direction we were before, and walks.  Like walks at a normal pace, as though she can see, and it takes me a few beats to hop alongside and see how her straight line isn’t centered in the hallway.  “Llllleft- left a little,” I almost trip on my left/right direction and she corrects well enough.

It’s only six steps or so before she needs to turn right but she’s going too fast. “Turn right in- turn! Stop!”

I come around to her front and she’s biting her bottom lip over a smile.  She’s able to put her hand on the wall tiles ‘cause she can feel how close it is with the sound.

“You’re going too fast.”

“Well I’d like to get to wherever we’re going,” she says cheekily.

“Yeah, okay, well in one piece please.  I don’t wanna be cleaning blood off the walls.”

She definitely rolled her eyes, just then, and I’m looking at her flatly like she can see.

“Well, speak up next time.”  She pushes past me, dragging her hand along the tiles so she can find a straight line, before stepping away a little and continuing on.  

“Stop!” I come up beside her.  “Still too fast, Y/N.  You’re gonna lose teeth.”

She slumps her shoulders and puts her hands on her hips  I walk past her to the next corner, ready to catch her this time.  “When did you get so reckless?”

Then, it seems, she has an idea, and speaks with a tone that’s so heavy and sultry, it’s got a goddamn undertow.  “Dean… Let me follow the sound of your voice.”

…that’s just flat out seduction, right? I mean she’s always been distracting, and I’ve lost however many seconds stuck on her smile, but shit.  She’s asking me to watch her walk towards me, call her to me, blind and trusting.  This is some reversey Miyagi-level action here.

“Okay.”  Keeping it all one pitch here, and that’s a struggle.  “Over here.”

She turns her head a little, pretty much walks my way, but her speed still makes me uncomfortable.  I take a few steps towards her, half-thinking we’ll stop and I’ll show her how fast I’d prefer.  Instead, I let her smack straight into me and catch her when she does.

“Still too fast, Y/N.”  It surprises her, takes her a second.  I’ve got my hands on her ibs, and she fans her finges against mine.  “What’re you doin’ here?” I ask quietly.

“I like how much I trust you,” she says, and lifts her face to mine.  “I… I just- enjoy it.”

“Me too… Follow me,” I say and start to walk backwards.

She moves, slowly, waiting for more so she can settle on a pace.  “That’s it… We’re turning a corner in about two yards… You got it… You’re doin’ good.”

“Yeah?”

“Real good, Y/N.  You’re doin’ fine.” Pretty sure that’s a low as my voice can go, and from the grin on her face she knows it.

“How fine?”

“…Perfect.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a blindfold and an idea… and it has led to here.

She grins and bites her lip.

“Okay you little shit stirrer, we’re just down here.”  I back into my room, watch her wave her arms into the doorframe to find her way. I feel like a villain for a moment, except that she’s asked me to lure her here.

Y/N closes the door and turns to face me.  “Your room,” she says.

“Smells that bad huh?”

Big grin.  “Nope.”

She steps forward a bit, puts her hand out, into my chest and slowly finds and hooks a finger over the first button and asks, soft voice,  “May I?  Please?”

“…Yeah.  Yes.”  I know she didn’t _say_ Sir, or anything like that, but I’m just gonna take a deep breath here and remind myself…

Remind myself…   

“This okay?” The shirt’s gone and she’s holding the edge of my t-shirt already, looking up at me, I mean not looking but you know… I need this to go slower.

“Yeah, but-” she freezes, listening.  “Just, no rush, yeah?”

It’s a big smile, not cheeky or hungry, just Y/N, with her hold squeezing my waist, and it makes me smile back.  “Sure.  Nice and easy.”  She keeps smiling, then offers.  “Do you wanna do this part?”

“No! No-no, that would be silly.  Just feelin’ like I might get eaten here.”

“Really?” she steps in, kinda of lightly rubs her face into mine and pecks me on the lips when she finds them.  “And that would be terrible?”

It’s a pouty kinda kiss, not too close, and her fingers are gathering the t-shirt as they climb.  

“How are you feeling so vulnerable if I’m the one blindfolded?” she asks.  Her hands come high enough that I need to move my arms up, raising them so she can keep on with the shirt-removing, but she doesn’t go any quicker, and it takes for-freaking-ever to get it past my chest, shoulders, head, with my stupid arms in the air.

“Oh I don’t know, Y/N,” I say, white cotton over my face.  “Why would that be?”

She giggles, laughs, squeezes my forearms after the shirt is chucked. Her hands slide up my arms, right up to my hairline, and back down my chest and stomach, warm and smooth and soft.

“Going slowly might be worse, you know.” She’s undoing the belt on my jeans, jostling me a little, and waits a few beats before undoing the button, a few more for the fly, patient and steady.  “Okay?” she checks.

“Yeah.”

She leans in, kisses me again, so nice and easy, and this time I can’t not- I have to _do something._  It starts off sweet but if she’s going to go slow down there on whatever the hell is coming next damned if I’m not getting a proper kiss in first.  She still tastes like golden syrup, a little metallic, and there’s a flavour about her gentle behind it.

She lets me hold her head and kiss the shit out of her, humming back when I moan at her, tilting for me and rolling with it.  Then I notice her hands - fingers getting tighter on my ribs, then pulling down, dragging like blunt claws down my stomach to the waist bands, and she breaks out of the kiss, nudging under my chin to kiss my throat, tongue the dip there, and she just keeps kissing south, pushing the denim down as she drags her palms down my thighs and shins.

It’s strange, for some reason, to stand in the light, have her look at me with her hands and not move, not talk, watch her think me over.  I want to tell her she’s beautiful, even while she’s fully clothed, on her knees, moving her hands slowly like I asked…  ah, yes, because most times when I get to this stage with a woman, she’s pretty much naked too, and I think to tell her she’s beautiful…

“You okay?”  She tilts her face up towards me, throat long, back arched with her fingers splayed on the back of my thighs.

“Yeah I”m fine.”

“You’re quiet.”

“Is there a theme I’m meant to be singin’?”

There’s giggling, long enough for me to ask “What?” but she bites her smile back and shakes her head.  “Tell ya later.”

“Hmmmokay, I’ll allow it.” I slip my fingertips over her hair, put my hand over one of hers. “You really are beautiful.”

She squeezes my thighs, leans against me, and smiles. “So are you, Dean.”  Blind and all.

I have to lock my knees so that her firm grip doesn’t push me back, and I watch her drag her hands around the front and up, turning them over when she feels the cuff of my boxers.  She slides the backs of her hands up against my skin, right up inside where it’s pale.  Her knuckles push into the soft corner at the top of my thighs and she hooks her fingers under the waistband, scrunching the fabric in her fist when she pulls.

I clench my jaw and try to stay quiet, though I don’t know what the hell kinda sound I’d make.  My dick just springs out, aching with what I’m gonna call hope, right there in front of her face.

“You okay?”

I groan, because every time I’ve imagined something like this it’s come after the reminder that it would never happen unless I want to screw up _everything_.  “Jesus, Y/N, you sure?”

“Yeah,” she smiles up at me.  “Oh yeah.  Unless you’re gonna pretend this never happened.”

“Unlikely.  I’ve been pretending about this happening for months.”

Y/N bites her lip and I run my fingers over her hair again, skipping past the cloth.  My other hand almost snatches on her next, ‘cause she yanks me forward, only inches, but enough to make me shuffle.  She’s tipped her head side-on and opened her mouth, finding my cock straight off, and the heat of her lips and tongue, wide and firm, is right at the base, making me suck air over my teeth.  It’s like stepping into a shower after a hour in the cold - shockingly hot.

And the view.  Her jaw all curvy, profile set off by the straight line of the sash, and lips red across me.   I brush the hair from her neck while it’s stretched long and get a hint of lace from down her v-neck top.  She slides that heat all the way up, slow and wet, lets the head slip into her mouth and catch on her cheek as she goes back down.  I practically cough with how good it feels.

“Mmm,” she stops and licks her lips.  “Honey.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N.”  All I can do is drag my fingers over her hair and try and keep myself upright.  

She does it all over again, getting my boxers all the way down and just holding me in her mouth while she pushes her hands over me, down my thighs, up the hamstring, shoving up over my ass cheeks and dragging over my waist as they come back down and stroke, cup, hug my balls. All of it rocks me back and forth, in and out enough to make me want to rock too, and then she bobs once, and starts whispering things, right into the skin, her lips tickling everywhere.

“You feel perfect Dean,” she says with that tone I met in the corridor, “made for my lips. Hot and hard and silky. Doesn’t even need cream.” Makes my gut tighten, that stuff.

Then hands and lips and tongue and depth - it’s become one of those ones I can’t keep track of. It’s just fucking good, good enough to distract me from trying not to lean, or hold too hard, or come. I’m making noises you can’t even alphabetise.

“Guuuuhwait,” I pull back, step back, “wait. Just… hmmmm.” Oooohh shit, that’s always… when the heat goes and everything’s still so hard it’s tight, the wetness evaporating from the heat… okay.  Unsexy thoughts. Here we go. Broken tail light. Crowley. Yep. That’s good. Dropped pie… “Okay hang on.”  I take her hands, loosely leading her up to stand and I walk backwards.

“You wanna get on the bed?” she asks, feeling my height change as I sit.

“Yeah, keep it civilised.”  I crawl backwards, and when she hears I’ve stopped, my back on the headboard, she starts to crawl too. She fumbles her wrists and knees over my legs, feeling where I am and working her way up between my thighs to sit on her feet.

She’s all neat and waiting and still in her damn jeans and tshirt.

“We should do something about this,” I say, tugging on her top.

“Yeah I’s thinking of starting with this?” She taps the blindfold.

“Sure, if you’ve had enough.” I won’t pretend I didn’t have ideas but it’s our first time together, and it’s been on a while; it’s fair enough.

She reaches around behind her head and carefully undoes the knot. When it’s free she holds it long, stretched taught and high enough that I still can’t see her eyes.  Slowly, she leans forward and rests it on the bridge of my nose, wrapping it around my head.

Her breath is warm, makes the rest of me feel cold again, and she asks “This ok? Is it too much?”

“I… I don’t think so.”  I mean, it’s kind of relaxing.  She ties it behind my head.

Y/N pulls out the comforter from under me and drapes it over my lap.  Then she kisses me and you know, I know I’ve kissed in the dark, with my eyes closed, all o’that, but this, it’s noisy.  Tongues slocking off hard palettes and shnapping lips, it’s deep and fat, with breath bouncing around, pushed out noses and over cheeks, even her hands on my cheeks and neck, _noisy_.  “Back in a minute,” she says, then she’s popped out of my reach and gone.  

“Y/N?”

The door closes and it’s quiet.  Dead quiet.  “Y/N?…  What the hell?”

It’s cool! It’s cool.

Okay.

She waited for ages at the table. I can do a few minutes in my own bed. We have heaps of time.

The comforter’s heavy on my cock.  Yeah I’m going to get that comfortable, not with this radiant heat in my lap.

I can be patient.

I’ll just put my hands on my knees.

Not that she said I couldn’t do anything. Hell I could put on a condom if I wanted.  

Actually that’s probably not a bad idea- No. Too eager. Says the naked guy wearing a blindfold.

Hands on knees.  

We’re definitely using a blindfold again, though. She looks hot as fuck with it, fully clothed. I’m gonna need a damn weekend to manage the sight of her in _only_ a blindfold… Ugh shit… no touching…

 _I can be patient._ I can.

It’s only been like 30 seconds hasn’t it. As if my dick can count in seconds. It’s like dog years over here…

Where is sheeee-

“You doin’ okay?”

“Yep.  Good.  Warm.”  What?

“Good.  Sorry ‘bout that.  Took longer than I thought.”

“Didn’t even notice,” I smile and she hums like _Yeah right._

“So I got some things, you have to tell me what you think,” she says, sounding right by the bed and coming closer.

The mattress dips and my arms hover, expecting she’ll sit on my legs.  I feel her thighs slide up either side of mine, her knees by my hips.  Her hands collect my wrists and then I can hear sound bouncing off her body, then hear her closer, breath flowing over my face as she settles herself.  I tilt my face up, searching for her and she kisses me.  It’s slippery, hang on-

“Strawberry?” I mumble.  “Mmm, god, gimme-”

Strawberry and giggles, that’s what I’m kissing offa one of the most deadly hunters I’ve met.  The flavour matches her perfectly and I lean up, pulling her hold on my arms to keep her against my face so I can kiss her properly, little globs of jam jelly edging out from between us.  

Jam is frikken sticky, messy.  I’m starting to think it’s not really my thing, until she’s nibbling my lips clean, and I change my mind completely when she wipes her face side to side over my chest then laps up what she wiped off, right over a nipple.  All my gut muscles jump at the feeling, so I take a deep breath and thunk my head back on the wood, ‘cause I will _pace myself_ dammit.

She finishes there and gives the other side a heavy sucking kiss, making me grunt and curl.  “So things are a little more even now,” she says.  

With a firm grip still around my wrists, she puts my hands right on her thighs - hello, bare thighs, no jeans - damn.  She slowly slides them up, up the sides, fuck there’re no panties, she’s bare, so fucken smooth and bare, my fingers can reach the fat of her cheek, and there’s the way she curves, it’s a frikken mission to not move my hands and _hold_ her.  My thumbs go right over her hip bone, right where they fit and I let her keep moving my hands up.  There’s nothing.  She’s wearing nothing.  Those are ribs and if I’ve not looked at those breasts enough I’m betting my thumb is about a hair’s breadth from something heavy and curvy and warm.

She whispers, “Hold still.”

“Shyy- fuckin’- _okay.”_

I feel her move towards me, rising up, and I’m guessing I know what’s coming, but I’m a little more confident when her thumb presses my chin down.  I don’t have to root around for it, she puts the nipple right in my open mouth.  Holy _shit_.  Honey!  I hum, licking off the sweetness and, Jesus, is that…  is that butter?

“You like butter and honey?” She’s gasping, dragging her hand over the top of my head, probably leaning on the wall.

“Jesus fuck, Y/N!”  Honey is one thing but _butter?_ It’s got that little saltiness in the background, not creamy, but makes the honey just… _mm_. I’m about to lick her nipple right off.  

Pretty soon I’m just rubbing my face in my own saliva, so I shift her over to see what’s at the other one and it’s the same, butter and honey over some perfectly shaped breast.  God that stuff doesn’t last long. I’m lapping and licking, nudging at the weight with my cheek and nose, love diving into that softness.  There’s gotta be something primally satisfying about the cush and weight of a breast.  I’d sleep under here if I could.

I drag my hands down her chest and belly, palms flat to her skin and I can imagine the way her body stretches down in front of me, the soft skin inside her hip catching the light, her knees spread, and my cock, I’m sure, straining towards her like a magnet.

“Y/N?”  I think most of my conversations with her, from now on, are going to involve me mumbling into her body.

“Yeah.”  She’s breathy above me, and everything about her - voice, heat, and, I imagine, her colour, - is up a few tones.

“You got any plans I’m about to ruin?”

“No, Dean, I don’t mind.  Whatever you want.”

That’s some good news.  I move her away enough to find the drawer, grab a condom, and get it on as quick as I can.  It’s worth getting in on early.

“Wow, you’re really… practised…”

“What? It’s just like it’s dark.”  My knuckles bump into her ribs again and I find her form right there, then her hands are on my cheeks, talking so her lips tickle mine.

“It’s not though, Dean.  I can see you.  All of you.  You’re gorgeous.” She kisses me, rolling and full, making me hum and moan when her fingers wrap around and drag up the length of my cock, make the skin trip a little before she tickles the ridge and over the head, and wraps a firm, hot hold.  Uh I can feel it in my neck.  “Thank you,” she says.

“Christ, Y/N, you’re _welcome_ ,” I say and kiss her back.  

She drags her fist up my cock and moans, low and knowing. “You’re going to ruin me with this.” Okay I’m officially generating my own heat now.  Her _words_ \- “Would you please?”

“Yes. Yes, next. After.”

“After what?”

“I wanna taste.  Come’ ere.” I hold her neck, palm to the curve, and feel her rib ridges between my fingers.  I can feel how this darkness is going to get frustrating soon, but for now, the dry heat of skin on skin, that unique texture, it’s tantalising as all hell.  I tilt her back and she falls for me, bouncing back on the bed so I can kiss down her chest, under the breast and tip the nipple so that she gasps and grabs.  Fuckin’ love that, it’s like morse code to her ends - dot dot dash, dash dash squeak.

When I get down to her belly, I take it gently in my teeth and hum into the flesh.  Then I hold her ribs still and hook my hand under her knee so I can bend her leg up, trap my face between her thigh and tummy while I nose around that thin soft skin before her hip.  Her hands slip over my back and through my hair, and she makes noises, sighs that trip on what I do, fingernails tellin’ me what’s good.

I’m _hungry_.  I can’t keep my mouth closed, there’re thigh muscles and tendons and curves of fat to feel, right on the flat of my tongue, but at some point that licking action reminds me, draws me back to the middle, and when I feel her hair by my face I slow down, right down, just so I can see what I’m dealing with here.

Her fingertips smooth over my head, light and patient, and I settle onto my elbows, wrap my hands around the top of her thighs to help them open.  With my nose and mouth I kind of muzzle at her, feel how full she is, where she’s fleshy, get that musky fragrance before the taste.  I like the terrain, the way the tendons meet at the sides, how it’s so deceptively soft and delicate looking.  ‘Cause it is, it’s kitten soft, but holy shit can a pussy own it.

She’s wet.  I can feel the shine on my chin, little kissing sounds as my skin leaves hers.  I go back up, rooting around, and there it is.  With my nose I hit her clit, through the flesh, making her legs bounce.  I hit it again and she gasps, groans at me, and her tone is warning when she says “Dean, maybe we’ve finished teasing each other today?”

“Okeydokey.  On with the ruining.”  I kiss her, right on that point, nudging it as I work my lips between hers and kiss harder, listening to her gasps get deeper and sharper, then open my mouth as wide as I can and lick her slow enough to make her move up the bed.  

Oh god the taste.  It’s so much more with the taste, heady and sweet, butter and honey.  I lick deep into the wetness, drag it all the way up and latch on, pulsing a suck.  I wish I could see ‘cause I can feel her body start to rock under me, feel it arch and crank like I could suck the breath out of her right here.  But it feels wrong to remove the blindfold now.  Anyway I’m busy.  I want to make her come before I start, and I want to start soon.

Two fingers straight off and I’m hoping to God she doesn’t mind.  Pretty sure that the “Yes! Fuck!  Ughfuck Dean!” is a good sign.  Her feet drag up my back and I go for it, fucking her with my fingers, sucking in time, and when I feel she’s eased a little, a bit wetter, a bit more wanting and grabby, I curve my reach, and she jumps, her voice too.  

I can’t begin to explain how it makes me feel when I get those sounds from a woman.  Getting them from Y/N is an order of magnitude more.  She’s gasping for me, trying to talk, while I suck on her body and stroke her inside.  I’ve got Y/N under my face, sighing for me because of what I’m doing and she’s asking for more, from me.  

I narrow it down to just her clit and my stroke, flicking back and forth relentlessly, listening until she’s pulling on my hair and seconds from angry, everything trembling.  I push just enough, a little harder, and she bursts, choking on her own voice.  It’s probably my blood I can hear, but I can feel the sensation rush through her, thrumming, tiny convulsions around my fingers, wet all over again, sighing and grabbing at me.

She starts hugging me with her legs and I crawl back up, kissing, tasting how her skin’s lightly salted now. I lean back a bit, not laying on her yet, finding a comfortable place for my cock before her legs rub something out.  “You okay?”

“Am I okay?” she repeats quietly.  “For Christ’s sake.”

“Can I take this off now?”

“Yes, god yes. You don’t need your eyes, obviously, but I do,” she says, pushing the sash off my head.  

The brightness is still a surprise, and she drags her palms over my eyes, brushing softly.  It should be awkward.  Y/N’s naked, below me, and I’ve just dipped myself in her body. She’s wearing a post-orgasmic glow I’ve never seen on my co-worker, and then there’s the pre-orgasmic desperation on me.  It should be awkward, but it’s really not.

“Okay?” she checks, all gentle and hopeful.

Like, what, I’m going to change my mind now? Like she’s not what I expected? _Yes okay._ “Oh God, yeah,” I’m moaning it, shaking my head, diving down.  “Can I just, please, I gotta feel you.”  I’ll get it out eventually, but first things first.  I want that hot body against my skin.

Y/N doesn’t just wrap her limbs around me, she hooks, presses, practically bends me to fit her shape, and kisses me so hard I don’t know who’s kissing who.  I’ll be lucky if I haven’t chipped a tooth by the end of it.

“You feel perfect.”  I’m still mumbling.  “An’ fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Could you- why- could you maybe-”

She’s paying too much attention to the kissing, so I duck under her jaw and help myself to all those shadows and curves.  “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Why aren’t you fucking me yet?”

“‘Cause I’m an idiot.” I lean back and watch my hand drag down her body again, that beautiful distance, and grin at her like a complete dork ‘cause I cannot believe my luck.  “So fucking gorgeous, Y/N!” 

She smiles back, swallowing a laugh, and rubs arms and legs against me.  I line it all up, almost wincing at how hot she feels against my cock.  One inch in and she yanks on my neck, mouth to mouth, sliding me home, both of us moaning hard and breathy.

“Oh God! Ooh fuck!” She’s rocking under me, pulling up my back, gasping deep enough for both of us.

I always need a second here.  Diving into that heat and pressure, I feel it all the way back to my spine and when I’ve got my nose in her hairline or neck, ear deep in her warmth and shadow with her flavour still on my tongue, it’s like the only drowning I’ll survive.

I lean back again and roll against her, watching her shift and feel, moving back and forth every time I surge my hips against hers.  I lean my hand low on her belly, reach down with my thumb and rub the knuckle side to side while I’m pressing her g-spot onto my thrusts.  Everything twitches and snatches and she grabs my arm, gasping “Uuuuh! Dean! _Dean?!”_ She holds tight, tight enough to make me ease off on it anyway ‘cause I’m not done yet and she looks like she’s about to start shaking.

Why did I wait so long for this?  Why did I wait at all?  Y/N looks up at me while I work a slow rhythm into her.  She has a high blush in her cheeks and lips, panting, tongue edging over her teeth like she’s thirsty.  She pulls her legs up, hooking them behind my waist and I frown and close my eyes ‘cause it’s deeper, louder, and I must grunt or moan or something.  

“Go on,” she says, and grabs my wrist, pushes it back down against her, heavy enough that I can feel the resistance inside.  I collapse a little, just to my elbows, and fuck her as deep as I can.  She threads her fingers in my other hand, holds it by her head and doesn’t kiss me so much as start gasping words into my mouth, things like “That, s’perfect, oh fuck Dean! _Please!”_

I can’t answer her, I’m well beyond anything but her name, and God, and fuck, at this stage, because she feels so sweet.  Just tight enough.  Makes the skin of my cock sing.  Make my balls tighten.  Heat up.  And she’s hot.  Pulling.  And pushing.  Holding me.  And tasting.  Wanting. Exactly.  How I.  Hoped.   _Fuck. **Fuck!**_

I can feel my lower back and ass shudder, everything sparking white and flashing through me.  I know I’m saying something, maybe “Y/N!  God!” and probably groaning my head off, muffled again when she grabs my head and forces our mouths together.  And the way she comes around me, my desperate dick near crying each time she pulses, it’s like I’m getting kissed at both ends.

I’ve ended up with an elbow leaning above her shoulder, my fingers stroking her hair back, the other arm tucked high under her back and I can see my thumb poking out from under her neck.  She was frowning so hard before, but she’s all calm now, eyelashes fanned over her cheek, little wisps of hair wet on her skin with her mouth soft and red, everything softening.  

I can feel where she scratched my back, not too bad.  Little hot patches I’ll look forward to again.  I’m watching her, waiting till she opens her eyes and when she does, Jesus, the smile on her.  Sparkly, strawberry sweet, and happy.  Why the fuck did I wait so long for this?

“Hey,” she breathes it in, like she’s winding up to stretch and slides herself all over me, humming and kissing me with open eyes.

“Hi.”  I’m trying to keep it to just a very happy smile, not a delirious fucked-out won-the-lottery grin.  “So, blindfolds.”

“Who knew, huh?”

“You didn’t?”

“Hell no, I’ve never been blindfolded before!” She pushes me a little, bites her lip.  “Would you do it again?”

“One day.  I mean it’s hot,” I say.  “Jesus, don’t get me wrong, it’s goddamn hot.  But I need a lot more o’this first.  I’d miss it.”  Yeah, those eyes. Much more.

“Me too,” she sighs, lays her palm on my cheek and runs her thumb over my brow, brushing again when I close my eyes for her.  I need a word for whatever’s between like and love.

As we’re cleaning up and getting under the covers, I remember to ask “What was the theme?”

She thinks at me a moment, then realises what I mean. “Oh!  Ahaha.  Um… ‘Believe it or not _I’m_ walking on air, I never thought I could feel so free-ee-eee!”

“Seriously?” I laugh.

“Thought it might be a bit weird if I introduced cock-karaoke at that point,” she shrugs, snuggling into me.  I manage to get her in a spot where I can see her, not both of us staring at the ceiling.  I keep taking deep breaths, having her soft by me like this making me sleepy.

“So I have to know, did you actually strip in the library, slather yourself in condiments and walk back to my room like that?”

She’s just finished settling and it’s hesitant, but there’s definitely a smile there.  “Yes.”  She bites her lips together and looks at me sheepishly.  “But you know I think it’d work much better if we melted the butter and honey together and used a brush.  Just, you know, for next time.”

“…Well, now I can’t use the kitchen.”  I’m joking but I’m also wondering if we could keep some in the fridge, and microwave it… and yeah, use a…  a brush.  It’d be warm too, like body-warm… and… slippery smooth… use a towel of course-

“You know, you call me sweetheart and darlin’ all the time,” she says, adjusting a little more to look at me.  “I’ve never been able to figure out what to say back when you do that. I’m so glad I can go ahead and call you those things now.”

“And Baby?”

“Oh yeah.   _Baby_.  For sure,”  she smiles and snuggles, and it makes me swallow tight.  “You gonna call me Honey now too?”

“No! God no,” I choke. She looks at me in surprise.  “Not unless you want my cock staring at you every time I do. Nu-uh.  Just regular pet names for me.”

“Damn, well then I’m definitely claiming that one-”

“No, please, I’ll be a mess-”

“Oh yeah.  I’m gonna put my hand over your eyes-” And she does it too, turns my head so she can whisper it.

“Y/N-”

“Lean in real close, while you’re driving even-”

“Ssshit, Y/N-”

“And I’ll say ‘Some strawberry and syrup, a lil’ butter and My _Honey.’”_

Fffffuck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So @klaineaholic replied to Taste Test Part 2 and I love the message not least of all for the continuity flag it waved (library Ali! Not kitchen!) so I went back and fixed that, but she was right too. You would’ve _ended up_ in the kitchen, because when you ran back to the library, well, that’s where the sticky situation began…

You went with the traditional and chose strawberry jam, dunking the spoon upside-down and kissing the well coated back, then smearing the flavour on the fullness of your lips, just for good measure (and for reserves - you couldn’t trust your instinct to lick).  But then, mid dash, you looked at the honey.

No one knows what their brain does when it makes decisions.  It’s like all your inner voices huddled - your id, your super-ego, teen!Y/N and Chomas (you remember Chomas? Your glo-worm who did all the accents? That’s were he lives now) - they got into a tight little conference, made eye contact and decided with a nod.

Before the rest of your brain had even opened a new tab, the honey was in your hand and you’re running for the kitchen. 

It’s silly, it’s cheesy, and it’s something no one ever does - apparently for really good reasons.  The bunker is cold so the honey is _slow._   It took a stupid amount of time and effort to get it onto your nipples.  You had to wrangle each boob with a full-handed hold, give in to having sticky fingers, and then you found out mid-derp that you really can’t lick that part of your arm, so there was wiping too.

You’re not sure how you settled on butter either - maybe because you’ve made madelines, or maybe you free-associated there from wishing for honey that moved, like on toast - but you still dumped the tub on the bench and dug in. Pleasantly, you find the honey has warmed on you, your breasts taking on a burlesque kind of lacquered look.

The butter went on okay - just a bit on the top side - but you’re weren’t sure it’d stay.  You slid it around with the spoon, then your finger, and tried to scrape it off the pad somehow.  Thank goodness he’s blindfolded, you thought.  The globs of cream didn’t look that appetising.

It all took ages, and you’re a breakfasty mess by that stage - shirt at your armpits, boobs bursting over your bra.  You looked like you’d been leaning over crumpets in some Benny Hill skit.  Right then, skip a step and nude up now. You got your gear off, kicked it under the table, and - hiccuping on giggles to be bare-bottomed in the bunker corridors - you ran.

…

When Sam got back from his impromptu half-marathon he was pretending he was fine.  He was wearing his least favourite running shorts, because the usual ones were still in the wash, since he was running out of schedule.  These shorts tended to chafe after about 12 miles.  Also, he’d run nowhere near a personal best, and the sun came out halfway through, the brightness bouncing off his glistening cheeks, but still the frustration and annoyance was nearly burned out of his bones.  

He had to dig through the fridge for his protein drink rather than grab it from the counter, where he’d usually leave it.  Still shaky from exertion, he scraped his knuckles on the shelving and knocked over jars and sauces, then dripped sweat on the floor in the time it took to correct it all.  Annoyance was restored.

At eye level, where the counter ends, Sam spied the small spoon laying there. It was honeyed to the stainless steel, looking slippery with creamy fat.  Without thinking too hard, he straightened, started shaking his drink, and took the spoon, holding it to his mouth as he turned.  

Dean appeared in the doorway.  He had the bag again, looking softened and healthy, and Sam would’ve seethed at his good fortune were it not for the look on Dean’s face.

Dean saw the jar of honey and the butter, both still open, and reasoned what Sam had found. He stiffened, affronted, and glowered at his trespassing brother.

Sam paused all over, frowned at the spoon and as Dean strode over his sibling instinct decided it was his spoon, he found it, and went to put it in his mouth.

Dean snatched, pinching the handle above Sam’s hold, and wrenched it away, ignoring the hollow sound of metal on teeth as Sam tried to bite down and keep his treat.  Sam gaped, robbed and sore, with half a mind to smack it from Dean’s hand so neither of them were happy. Dean defiantly collected the butter and honey in his arms, gave Sam a scolding glare and stomped out of the room.  

That was when Sam noticed your pile of clothes under the table, bra and panties on top. He chewed his lips for any skerrick of honey, finding very little, and looked at his protein shake. Sam began to think the day was turning out rather shitfully.


End file.
